When the Sun Goes Down
by Hollyberries and Vanilla beans
Summary: Post Apocalypse AU. Alfred F. Jones was never one to play well with others. The end of the World only made that more prominent. However, when he picks up a British straggler on the run from one of the most powerful Bosses in what was once North America, he can't help but start to question everything he's ever done to survive.
1. Chapter 1

I remember… watching tv with my mom when I was really little. Not like cartoons or anything, news channels. And I never understood why everyone on them was always worried. Or sad. There was one time that one of the women just stopped talking, right in the middle of a story. Then she started crying and had to get up and leave. The man at the other end of the desk picked up right where she had stopped. My mom turned the television off and took me to the kitchen to make macaroni and cheese. I think she was hoping that I would forget about it.

I didn't.

She always seemed really scared when the reporters talked about the weather. It was irregular I think. Always irregular. I'd ask her what was wrong. She would just laugh and shrug it off and we'd go make cookies or play board games or something. But I'd keep asking questions.

Why did we buy so many cans of beans and corn and stuff like that? We never ate it. Just put it away. "For later. When we need it." She'd tell me, smiling.

Why did we have to go outside to our room to hide when the sirens went off? "So that we'll be ready. For later."

Don't get me wrong, our room was pretty cool compared to the ones some of the kids in my class had. When we played together, everyone liked coming to my house to play the most. Mom and I had a couch and a table and chairs and everything in ours. And since the cement was usually pretty cold, mom found this really big rug with a red, white, and blue pattern on it at some old store downtown and bought it just for me. It looked really nice on the floor, made the little square shaped room feel more like our house. The back wall of cement was cut out into a place to keep food too, like a real military base would have. Playing soldiers in the room was the best! Even though we weren't really supposed to. My mom used to yell at us if she caught us playing in the room. I don't think she wanted anyone to go in there if we didn't have to.

And then the day came where we really didn't have a choice anymore. As soon as the sirens started screaming, mom would grab me and pull me outside. The ground around the room would shake and horribly loud noises could be heard even through the thick cement walls. I asked her what was happening. She told me that very, very strong people were arguing with each other. "Why?" I asked her, surprised. "What do they want?" She said that she wasn't sure anymore.

"Mommy?" The dark, cement shed, built halfway into the slanted hill that took up half the small, city backyard, was barely illuminated by the LED flashlight she had set off to the side on the little table we had moved out here from the living room when the builders had finished building the 'fort' for us. "Why are you crying?" Her shaking hands pulled me closer to her as I sat in her lap. "What's wrong?" She laughed and wiped at her face with the back of one trembling palm. "Nothing's wrong Alfred. I'm just thinking about something else. Why don't we play soldiers together? Wouldn't that be fun?" I nodded.

That's what I usually ended up doing. I'd just laugh and smile and play along with her. I wanted her to be happy.

I stopped asking why after a while. I knew she'd never say… I don't think I necessarily hold that against her. She just wanted me to be safe and happy and give me all those things that every mother wants to give their child. It wasn't her fault that the whole planet was going to hell in a hand grenade around us.

Eventually, that world died.

That's where my life as it is now began.

* * *

It was only halfway through the morning and he could already tell that it was going to be a bitch of a day. "Fucking son of a BITCH!" He could've screamed. Smoke rolled out from the edges of the rusted red hood of his truck. "Son. Of. A. BITCH." Angrily switching off the engine and slamming the door open, Alfred stomped through the sand to the front of his vehicle and popped the hood, careful not to get a face full of nasty black smoke in the process. "God damn fucking _sand."_ Because that was it. Sand clogging up the engine. Again.

Sand from the miles upon miles upon miles of desert that had appeared after the war ended, along with the salt lands, poisonous swamps, and gas forests.

He glared at his engine before taking a swig from his water jug. Yanking his faded bandana which had been, at one time, a light blue but now only appeared to be a black and a murky brown from oil, gas, and _sand_ , he began a quick wipe down of the sandy parts, careful to avoid receiving a burn.

"This is some fucking bullshit… god damn Europe gets a nuclear winter and we get fucking _sand…_ Jesus Christ…"

The nuclear poison had dealt its damage in a surprisingly short period of time. The western hemisphere underwent severe draughts and the toxification of most large bodies of water, whereas the eastern hemisphere was thrown into hazardously low temperatures and catastrophic amounts of snow.

Alfred sighed, going back to the bed to pull out a jug of radiator fluid. "If you pull this crap again I'm ditching you. You hear me you piece of shit? I put a fortune into you and your damn tires and parts and so help me GOD I will leave you on some fucking mountain and pick up a motorcycle or something… Christ almighty…"

Hopping back into the driver's seat, he turned the key. The truck sputtered before dying. He tried again. "c'mon, c'mooon…" Nothing.

"FUCK!" kicking the bottom edge of the dash board and slamming his hand into the window he screamed. "FUCK ME!" Groaning, he let his head drop onto the wheel. It was useless. He was going to have to wait a couple hours for the engine to cool down before he could do any work on it. Groaning again, he reached into the back seat to pull out the sandy brown cover that he used to help him stay out of sight. Jumping out, he made quick work of disguising the red monster to look like just another part of the low, rocking outcrop he was currently stuck on.

He settled the last scraggly bush into place and shouldered his bag. To move to the top of the rocks was risky, but he needed a better viewpoint for a lookout. He couldn't afford to get a surprise visit from his blind side. Moving low, he made his way up to settle beneath a gnarled dry tree that hadn't been alive in years. He took another drink of water and rested back against the trunk. He watched.

And waited.

* * *

A tremor slithered up through his legs. He checked the landscape quickly. Empty. Just like the past hour or so. "Fuck." He needed cover again.

He slide back down the rocks painfully, slicing his palm open in the process. He hissed. The tarp rustled lightly as he slipped under and pulled his bag in after him. Slipping down to his stomach, binoculars in hand, he scouted out the horizon. Now he could hear them and feel them. Engines. Just a few of them. Moving fast, possibly in pursuit of something.

A glare rolling off a windshield and a cloud of dust caught his eyes. "Bingo." He spotted them. Two trucks, three bikes. Chasing what looked like a beat up Charger. Heading just south of his direction.

The Charger looked a little desperate to him; he wondered how long this chase had been going on for. Zipping across the desert in an almost random pattern, it flew… straight towards his hiding place.

"Aw shit… not good." He popped the door above him and pulled his rifle down from the floorboards. Sinking back down, he checked the gun out quickly and then set up for a shot he hoped he wouldn't have to take. He didn't want to waste ammo, but he sure as _hell_ didn't want to get caught.

One of the trucks fired a harpoon, brilliantly situated on the hood for this exact purpose. It met its target. Sinking into the back right of the car, the chain snapped taunt as the truck braked heavily. It was enough to get the job done. The motorcycles caught their stride next and rushed the car on both sides. If the driver wasn't panicked before he sure was now. Attempting to take out the motorcycles, he over corrected on a bank. That and the drag of the chain caused the car to flip before it rolled to a stop upside down meters away from the base of his rocks. Alfred almost stopped breathing. The roof of the car was smashed in pretty badly. Could someone _survive_ that?

The air and dust stilled as the motorcyclists and truck drivers turned off their vehicles before approaching the car easily. All laughing loud enough for Alfred to hear. "Idiot must have forgotten how to drive!" One of the men reached down through the window in an attempt to pull out the person inside.

That person was ready for him. Quick as a snake, the man collapsed with a bullet hole through his skull. The next two closest were down before they could shoulder their weapons. One shot to the heart, the next through the throat. Alfred gasped as the remaining men scrambled to get away from the downed car. Raising his own gun, he took a breath and steadied his aim. **One. Two.** There was hardly a sound as he picked off the last two guys. No screams. No nothing. It was too quick for either of them to have seen him coming.

And then there was quiet. He hardly dared to breathe. There was no movement from inside the car.

Minutes passed like this.

"If I come out…are you going to shoot me?" A light voice finally called out from amidst the smashed metal and dead bodies lying at the foot of the outcropping. Alfred released the breath he had been holding. "That all depends. If I came out would ya shoot me?"

He could _hear_ the scowl in the others voice. "Maybe." He smiled and laughed a bit to himself. Just a bit. "Then maybe I'd shoot you too."

The voice was quiet for a moment. "On three then?" Alfred nodded to himself. "Toss weapons out first?"

"…fine. Even though you and I _both_ know we each have more than one weapon."

That pompous _jerk._

He couldn't help himself.

"One." He laughed again and slide his rifle out onto the rock.

"Two." A small pistol landed with a quiet thump in the sand.

" _Three."_

The sun had never seemed so bright before.


	2. Chapter 2

Neither of us spoke as we examined one another. It made sense not to though.

It was harder to kill people you talked to.

We were about the same height. Maybe 5' 9''. 5'10''. While our hair matched in color, it did not match in shade. Mine being a bright, sunny blonde and his a dirty yellow-ish mess.

That was where the similarities ended. Whereas my eyes were quite blue, his eyes were the color of the poisonous green bile which had replaced the water. The rough life had obviously taken a toll on him as well. He was lanky, one could almost call him scrawny, with a hard face and a calculating glare. A survivor in the least.

A fighter.

I smiled.

"Where are you from?" The stranger blinked twice. Rapidly.

"What does that matter?" Bitter. Scathing. The green eyed man shifted his weight carefully. His eyes flickered down to his pistol for just a second before looking back to me again.

It did not go unnoticed.

"I dunno…. I was just wondering. You don't sound like you're from around here."

"Here?" The man laughed darkly. "You mean the desert? No. I'm not from this piss pot of a wasteland."

"The old United Kingdom right? Or South Africa? Not Australia… Your accent isn't that brawny sounding." I knew that accent. Just couldn't place it right now.

Surprised flashed in the other's eyes. "… Who are you?"

Of course he'd ask. "Just another wandering soul." Stepping forward, I slid down the rocks until my feet hit the sand. Green eyes danced back to the pistol once again but the stranger held his ground. As much as I kinda didn't want to, I approached one of the bodies, now beginning to look slightly bloated in the heat. Cornflower met venom as I dropped to my knees. "You running from someone?"

The venom paled in fear.

"No."

* * *

Alfred scoffed quietly to himself as he knelt over the body and pulled back the man's jacket collar. Standing out on the skin was a pale pink circular mark. Burned with a hot iron into the skin. An ornate bull's head with a ring through its nose and horns that flared out into flames that surrounded the outer circle. He whistled.

"Carriedo." He looked back up. "Impressive. What'd you do to him to get dogs sent out after you?"

Unyieldingly, the man responded, "A favor for a friend." The venom was back. If not more challenging than it was before. Alfred grinned again, a bit more menacing this time.

"That's what gets you killed out here."

"Favors or friends?"

"…Both." Alfred turned away and moved to climb back up onto the rocks to his truck but froze when he heard the safety of a gun click off behind him. He slowly turned his head back to the pistol still lying in the sand before looking up at the matching gun cradled in the other's right hand. Pointing at the back of his own head. He sighed. Stupid.

"So you're going to kill me now, is that it?" Alfred pressed his hand to his chest, feigning hurt. "After all we've been through together…."

The other man just snorted. "You know what they say. The enemy of my enemy-"

"Is my competition." Alfred finished for him. "Funny how that's changed, y'know?"

"Yeah… funny." He steadied the gun in his hand and placed his pointer finger on the trigger. But… he hesitated to shoot him. Deliberating. Eventually, he lowered his gun. Of course. The green eyed snake must not have wanted 'innocent' blood on his hands.

Coward.

"Not today, eh?" Alfred turned around to face him. Wiping sweat from the scorching sun off his forehead as he did. He usually didn't go outside without a hat and a bandana over his face. Didn't want to risk getting any sunburns or wind blisters after all.

"No. Not today. I need your help." He nodded up to the top of the rocks. "You gotta car? I can't take any of these," He gestured to the two trucks and the motorcycles, "they'd wonder why there was a single out and then come investigate."

Alfred stared at him. "What?"

"Are you _stupider_ than I originally thought or did you not hear what I said?" The green eyed man scowled at him again.

"Oh no, I heard you. But why you think I would give you a ride is beyond me."

"Who said you were coming with me? I'd be just fine with taking your car and leaving you out here for the buzzards to come pick you off. I don't need you." He played with his pistol as he made his way over to Alfred. The smile on his face showed no signs of joking around. "Keys please."

Alfred scowled at him. "You're literally shitting me right now, I'm not going to-" Up came the pistol again, this time leveling directly between Alfred's eyes.

"Actually, I think that you most definitely are going to give me what I want. I'm not a patient man." Alfred continued to stand stock still and just scowl for a moment before he slowly reached around to his back pocket.

"I hate you."

The stranger just laughed and leaned in closer to Alfred, extending his free hand to receive the set of keys. "I'm actually used to hearing that, believe it or not. If it makes you feel any better, I'm not particularly fond of you either…"

Alfred snorted. Reaching into his pocket, feeling for- yes. There it was. "Tell me that again if I'm still here when you wake up."

"Wha-" He didn't even have a chance to get a word in before the extendable baton Alfred had stashed in his back pocket cracked into the side of his face with a deadly combination of speed and accuracy. The man was knocked unconscious almost instantly.

The batons grip was warm in his palm. "Extendable police bats. Pretty sure they were a thing in the United Kingdom before the End. Thought you'd be familiar with them to be honest… Might want to try investing in one. They're perfect for situations like this." With the press of a button, the baton slide down back into its original size and was returned to its pocket. Alfred sighed, looking down at the man who had just threatened to kill him.

It'd be a shame for this good old boy to die of heat stroke while he was out cold.

Snatching up both of the others pistols, Alfred shoved them into his front pockets before reaching down and grasping the man under his arms. He grunted as he started to drag the other to the shade of the closest truck. "Damn… you're heavier than I thought you'd be…" Finally, he let the other flop down onto the sand and he wiped his hands off on his cargo pants. His work here was done.

* * *

His truck started on the first try after he added a little bit more radiator fluid. Alfred whooped and hollered as he flipped his radio on. Nothing like a little Johnny Cash to get you going. His truck growled as he gassed it off of the outcropping on which it had trapped for the last few hours and out onto the open plains of sand.

It was time to keep moving.

Alfred's hand jerked out to turn the radio up when he heard the first song start playing. Humming along quietly, he watched the sun begin its afternoon journey towards the horizon. Just a few more hours until another glorious sunset.

"… Good morning America, how are you? Don't you know me? I'm your native soooonnn… I'm the train they call the City of New Orleans. I'll be gone five hundred miles when the day is doooone…" He sighed to himself.

Five hundred miles indeed.


End file.
